Spark of Rebellion
by youhaven'tmetme
Summary: Prequel oneshots to accompany Soft on Rebellion following Tommy's daughter. For the child with a blade in her cap and an insatiable need for bedtime stories.
1. Chapter 1

**By popular demand - here we are! And of course, I started with the most emotional, rip-your-heart out moment. That's me all over.**

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 **1914 - Tessa is 10 years old.**

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They were going. She had known they would, but having them say it was… shattering. It felt like someone had picked her up from her bed, and thrown her out of her window. It felt like her bones and skin and insides were laid out in fractals on the road.

Tessa barely registered that she had stood up from the table. Didn't feel the hand try to pull her back or her name being softly called. She just walked, right out of the door, past her dead body on the road, and down through the terraces. They were empty, and silent, and full of people dying before they'd even left.

Someone was crying.

No one paid attention to the ten year old as she found herself at Charlie's yard. They were in their own heads, in their own hells. People were going to die. Families, just like that, would be torn from each other. Dads would die. Brothers. Uncles. Granddads. And she couldn't do anything about it.

Tessa looked up at her nook. There was plenty around her to stand on but she didn't want that. She didn't want it easy and painless. Instead, she retreated far enough so that her back was pressed against one of Charlie's sheds. Then she kicked off, ran, and jumped up. Her hands didn't manage to grab the ledge, as she knew they wouldn't. She felt the skin on her palms and knees split against the wall as she fell, landing on her back in the gravel.

The air was sucked from her lungs, leaving empty space in its wake. The emptiness solidified.

She couldn't breathe.

She stilled.

Then gasped, and slowly, dragged in a breath. With painful effort, she sat up and looked up to the nook. Hopelessness pulled on her gut. The whole thing. The whole fucking thing. Hopeless.

Holding back tears, Tessa dragged over a few empty containers and used them to get up to the nook. She climbed over the edge and shuffled to the furthest corner. Rainwater trickled from the balcony above, pooling at her feet. It didn't make her feel any better.

That was when she started to cry.

They weren't gonna come back. Of course they weren't. She'd heard what war was like, and she bet what she had learnt was tame compared to reality. As she grew older, Tessa found that often the case.

Her dad was going to die. And her uncles. They would be laid in the mud in a country that wasn't even theirs, and die in agony. While she was sat at home.

No. It wouldn't be home without them.

The unfairness of it all weighed heavily on her. She was ten years old. She was too young to be an orphan, too young to lose everything. She didn't want to see the day her family wouldn't come home again.

Her sobs grew harder as the rain thickened. In tune with each other's pain.

* * *

Tommy didn't panic when his daughter stormed out. He hadn't put too much effort in pulling her back either. He knew where she would go, and knew that was how she needed to cope. And he was a coward. He didn't want to see her cry.

But it was getting dark and after making sure Ada, little Finn, and Pol were composed enough, Arthur and John went to The Garrison while Tommy went down to Charlie's yard. He knew exactly where she'd be. Sure enough, boxes had been piled up to Tessa's nook. He climbed up and looked over the edge.

Tessa was curled in a tight ball in the far corner. Her wet hair covered her face. If he didn't know better, Tommy would have said she was sleeping.

"Just me, Tess," he said as he climbed over the lip and moved over to her.

He sat beside her, but not close enough to be touching. She didn't move. He could see the jut of her spine through her shirt. The sight filled him with sadness.

 _Always a skinny little kid._

Would he be around to see her grow into anything else?

He cursed the thought as soon as it came. Of course he would be.

"Tess," he sighed. "It's late. Pol's worried about you."

Nothing.

"Ada too. She wants to read you _The Secret Garden_ again."

Tommy sighed. Throwing caution to the wind, he held out his hand and rested it on her back. If only she would face him, this would all be so much easier.

"We're gonna be alright, Tess. They say it'll only be a few months. I'll be back before you're eleven. I'll be back before Christmas."

"You won't if you die," she whispered.

He could hear the tears in her voice. She trembled beneath his hand.

"Come here," he said.

He moved his hands to her shoulders to manoeuvre her, but she did it herself. She spun and threw her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He held her as she sobbed harder than he had ever seen her. If she had almost broken his heart when she was a toddler, she had finished the job now.

"Please don't go," she whispered into his shirt. "Please just stay here."

"I can't, Tess."

"Why?"

"I've got to keep you safe, haven't I? And Pol and Ada. And Finn."

"How can you do that in a different country?"

He stroked her back.

"It's complicated, love."

"But…"

She hiccuped and lifted her head from his shoulder. He looked down at her, seeing how sore her eyes were. She'd been crying all day, he had no doubt. Her hair stuck to the sweat on her forehead and her wet clothes clung to her skinny frame.

What the hell was he doing, leaving her alone in a place like this? In the hell that was Small Heath?

"I don't want you to be alone, Dad."

"I won't be. I'll be with John and Arthur. And friends."

"What if you get split up?"

"We won't."

"What if one of them dies?" she asked, her eyes awash with fresh tears.

Tommy tried to brush them away.

"Then it happens. But I'll do everything I can to prevent it. Eh?"

He tipped her chin up.

"I'm going, Tess. I'm sorry, but I am."

If possible, her face fell even further.

"Okay," she said, her voice breaking.

"Want to go for a walk?" he asked, holding out his hand.

She nodded. They both clambered down from the nook. Tommy wasn't surprised when Tessa kept hold of his hand. She hadn't done it since she was very young but these were exceptional circumstances.

He turned her hand over and found the cuts on her palm.

"Tripped," she said, monotone.

They both looked at the blood for a long moment before Tessa grabbed his hand again. They walked along the canal, in silence. Her tears had stopped, an exhausted blankness covering her expression now. He was about to bring it up again, try to reinforce that he was going to come back, when Tessa turned her head up to the rain.

The words caught in his throat. The familiar sight brought tears to his eyes. He blinked them away as Tessa led the way to the stables.

"Hi, Brownhouse," she said quietly, stepping into his stall.

She stroked a hand down his nose.

"You'll have to take over looking after him," Tommy said.

Tessa nodded.

"Be afraid, lad," Tommy said, patting the horse's neck.

Tessa gave him a brief, half-hearted smile.

"Come on," he said, holding the stall door open.

Tessa hesitated, continuing to stroke the horse.

"Tessa."

She shook her head, turning away from him. She lifted up a hand to brush at her eyes, then turned back.

"Bye, Brownhouse," she murmured.

Tommy closed the door behind her, then took her by the shoulders.

"Okay, Tess. I know this is shit. I know. But I need you to keep it together, now and after I've gone. I need you to be the man of the house, eh? You need to look after Pol and Ada. I know you can. And you need to look out for Finn, too. He isn't going to understand."

"Okay."

He cupped the side of her face, something he'd never done before.

"I want you to promise me you won't get into trouble. Not just little stuff, but… I'm not gonna be here to fix things. And I don't want to come back and for you to be gone. Promise me."

"Promise," she said solemnly, and he knew she meant it.

"Okay… You ready to head back?"

She grimaced, but nodded.

* * *

She held onto his hand on the way back, through the dark, eerily quiet streets.

There would be no one to hold her hand when he was gone. She'd need to learn to hold herself up. Hold her family, their reputation up.

It was time to be a Peaky Blinder, for real. And that thought, the one she'd coveted for years, now stung. She was holding her family's future in her skinned palms. She wasn't ready.

Tommy glanced down at her when she paused. She looked up at him. There was a mutual understanding in that stare.

"You'll be okay, Tess," he said, squeezing her hand. "I promise."

She nodded, and they carried on walking.

She'd do it for him. She'd make him proud, and survive. She just hoped he and her uncles could do the same.


	2. Chapter 2

**I asked, and you guys answered! This chapter follows the fallout of Mrs Shelby's death just after giving birth to Finn. You guys really like the angst, huh?!**

 **Tess is four years old.**

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Tommy was numb. He felt like he should cry, like John and Ada. That was someone did when their mum died, wasn't it?

But he couldn't do it. He felt solid, as if his blood had curdled, drawing his body to halt. There was no room for tears, no room for understanding the weight of what was happening.

His mum was gone. She'd been weak as long as he could remember but was always _there._ She was part of the walls, part of the city. She was the one part of his family who would be home, who would put her hand on the back of a tired head and bring about a smile when one seemed previously out of reach.

Now she was gone. And he needed her.

Tommy stood, feeling as if he didn't get up from the bed, he'd sink too far into the mattress and wouldn't be able to find his way back. His footsteps were heavy as he made his way down the stairs to the living room.

Arthur was sat on the couch, cradling Finn. Tommy stayed behind, watching. He was a Shelby baby, that was for sure. He looked just as John had, only a little smaller. He wondered if his mum knew that this little baby would be the one to kill her. She probably did. Had to have.

She always did give too much to her children.

"He's a quiet baby," Arthur said.

Caught, Tommy came over to them and touched a hand to Finn's soft forehead. He let out a soft baby-like huff in his sleep.

He would be his last sibling. They'd always thought Ada would be the last, thought their mum was safe. She'd made it through. And now she was gone.

"Pol went to sort out the arrangements," Arthur said.

No one else would notice, but Tommy heard the small tremble in his older brother's voice. He sat beside him, putting a hand to the back of his neck. Arthur leaned into him, breathing ragged but his grip on Finn still firm. When his brother's tears came, Tommy felt his own rise in his throat. Arthur was always so strong, and he'd always had their mum. Arthur, Tommy, and she had walked to school together. They'd eaten together and whined at her together when she announced John was due to be born.

They said they didn't need her as much as their younger siblings, but they did. She'd been gone a day and they'd already fallen apart.

The tears were too close now.

"I've got him," Arthur said quietly, pulling away.

He knew.

Tommy nodded silently and rose from the couch. If possible, his footsteps were even heavier on the way back up the stairs.

He went to head back to his room but the thought of sitting alone again made the tightness in his chest contract further. Before he'd thought it through, Tommy turned to the room at the end of the landing. He knocked once and opened the door.

Tess was sat at the window, her head tilted back against the wall. Her eyes were closed and Tommy could see half-dried tear tracks running down into her hair. She turned at the sound of him closing the door and opened her eyes. She had such soft eyes. They had so much depth and now they were swimming with unshed tears.

"I'm really sorry, Dad," she said.

He didn't trust himself to reply. Instead, he walked to her and picked her up. Her arms went around his neck and though she was in his arms, it was as if she was holding him. He sat down on the edge of her bed, holding her as tight as he could. He imagined himself being her age and felt a stab of sadness. Those days were gone, and it was unfair.

"I miss her too," Tess said into his neck.

His daughter's voice held the same tremor as his brother's, but still the tears wouldn't quite come. There was still that stubborn part of him, that solid, unmoving part that didn't dare believe it was true.

He smoothed his daughter's hair down as she held him.

He closed his eyes. His mum had always different to his father, and even he and his brothers. She was gentle and kind. She was stern enough to get them to behave and could raise a wilder hell than any of them could if her family was on the line, but she was better than them. She was a good woman and a good person.

She always saw the angel in him, always believed that side would beat his father's devilment.

A tear fell, rolled down the curve of his face, and landed on Tess's curls. More followed.

As his breath hitched, Tess's grip on him tightened. She was letting him know she was there, that she had him as much as he had her.


End file.
